Annihilation Assured

Posted: March 7, 2015 by writingsprint in Science fiction, We've Got Your Back
Tags: , , ,

Part 11 of “We’ve Got Your Back,” a Mass Effect fan fiction. This story has spoilers for the end of Mass Effect 3.

As thick as battlefield jamming, Harbinger’s voice rang through every com channel in the Sol system. Terrified soldiers on the ground wondered what the hell was about to happen.

The battle in space turned into untold carnage. The Reapers charged forward, trying to reach the Citadel. The fleet let them in, then shot them from all directions. As the Reapers died, they changed tactics, turning and ripping apart everything they could reach. They fought with the desperation of those about to die.

Hackett appreciated the irony in that. As the Iowa rocked under another hit, he hoped he would live to enjoy the memory.


The dreadnoughts Pennsylvania and Odinn fell under attack from three Reapers. Their battle groups destroyed one of the Reapers outright. Geth and quarian fighters fell upon the second like hornets. The asari cruiser Nefrane filled the gap for the Odinn, striking the third Reaper broadside. As it came about, the human battle groups fired at it again, striking it in the head. More Reapers were coming. Quarian ships rushed at them.


The geth fleet severed its data link to the rest of the consensus. On Rannoch and in deep space, the consensus initiated shutdowns of its data cores. If synthetic life would be destroyed, perhaps lifelessness would save the geth. It was a logical possibility, if an improbable one. The creators believed in miracles. The geth did not. However, with all other alternatives tending toward zero, the improbable was preferable to the impossible.


Captain Holland sweat as the Sarajevo’s damage control feed showed spreading hull breaches and atmosphere loss from a swarm of oculi cutting into the hull. And soon, giant, mechanical intruders. “Get marines down to those sections!” he said. He still nodded with satisfaction as they and the turian Second Fleet wounded a Reaper trying to run the blockade. Holland glanced at the Citadel on the tactical display. Come on, Shep. Get out of there.


“I’d pay a year’s salary to shut him up,” Commander Phillips said. His fighter bumped and his panel turned green as he finished reloading. Phillips released docking clamps and fired his engines to get back into the fight. Other members of the fighter wing flew past him, flying back to the carrier to get more ammunition. He headed for where he could do the most good: the Citadel. It was a good thing they only had a few minutes until the Crucible fired. Saratoga’s fighters had almost no more missiles left to fire.


Captain Fob coughed in the smoke filling the CIC. He leaned over his dead weapons officer to fire the main batteries again. The battle group had positioned itself four hundred meters away from the Normandy team’s shuttle. The cruisers switched their ammunition to full defensive fire, using their guns to throw up a curtain of steel fragments that blasted anything coming near the Citadel. It worked on the small stuff but all it did was make the big Reapers angry. They had drawn a lot of attention.

Nuremberg, this is the Aurora,” an asari asked over the command channel. “Do you require assistance?”

“Just doing our job, Aurora. Cover our cruisers. They need the help more than we do.”

“Will do, Nuremberg. Stay strong.”


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